


i'll be the spring to your smile

by chasingjupiter



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: A little pining, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Drabble, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Language, Slice of Life, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:44:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: shoma doesn't know when he started following yuzuru around like a hopeless puppy, but it was probably the first time they met.





	i'll be the spring to your smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



It’s the summer before Shoma starts school, for real, and while the air is thick and soupy, he is energetic.

His hair is unruly and his mother keeps pleading to let her give him a haircut, but he likes it this way. He likes the way he can feel the wind blow through the thicket of dark brown, the way nothing can tame it. It makes him feel alive.

When his mother finally gets ahold of him and snips the wild locks short, Shoma thinks he might cry a little; it feels like the end of summer, like his freedom has just been cut short with his hair. He thinks he won’t feel alive again without his too-long, choppy hair.

He’s wrong.

A mere week before school starts, Shoma meets Yuzuru. He is bright and friendly and his eyes sparkle with something Shoma just knows is  _ life _ , and though he feels timid and a tiny bit afraid of his new neighbor, a little part of him positively aches to know more.

Yuzuru is everything he looks and more; he is witty and has a lovely laugh Shoma wants to listen to for the rest of time, and he doesn’t know exactly why Yuzuru wants to be friends with Shoma  _ so bad _ , but he is perfectly content to let Yuzuru sling his arm around his shoulders as they walk to the convenience store for popsicles one last time before school starts.

When school starts, the air tastes of dread and crisp breeze, and Shoma feels like everything is changing, but Yuzuru keeps on walking with him to and back from school, still loiters around the convenience store with him, and Shoma realizes that nothing has changed.

During their breaks, Yuzuru finds Shoma and tells him about his day and what he learned and how difficult it is for him to stay still in his seat. When Shoma gets out from his last class, Shoma finds Yuzuru and tells him about his day and what he learned and how difficult it is for him to pay attention to the teacher. It’s a good system; they grow closer with each passing day, and before they know it, it is December, and they pull out their sweaters and winter coats and look up at the sky every morning hoping for snow.

Shoma would be lying if he said he didn’t feel differently about Yuzuru compared to his other friends. Yuzuru is a lively soul, wise beyond his nine years of age, and through the monotonous cycle of school, he doesn’t seem to be put out by it. Shoma is tired of sitting in his seat for hours and losing those hours of wandering the streets with Yuzuru, but his mother laughs gently at him and sends him back every morning. Sometimes he looks out the window and pretends Yuzuru is looking out the window too, and he feels a little better.

It takes a few years for Shoma’s fascination with Yuzuru and all the mysteries in his head to melt into a relaxed sense of kinship with him. It’s the spring of his fifth year of school and he and Yuzuru are lounging by the roots of a tall cherry blossom tree, and while Yuzuru is slim and has long skinny legs and arms, Shoma is small and can’t seem to shake the chub from his cheeks. Yuzuru is talking animatedly about something new he is trying; his arms are flailing in the sweet-scented air, and his hair is black and a little long in the front, and Shoma is seized by the urge to sweep his bangs to the side where they won’t mingle with his eyelashes. He doesn’t, though, and instead sits back on his heels, watching the petals drift absently to the ground.

“What are you thinking about?” Yuzuru asks, eyes following the same petal Shoma is watching.

Yuzuru likes these questions.  _ What’s on your mind, what are you doing after school, what subject is your quiz in, why are you so quiet.  _ Questions Shoma doesn’t really want to answer, questions Yuzuru carelessly tosses into the air, and at this point Shoma instinctively catches them.

“Nothing,” Shoma says, and he’s not really lying. He’s thinking about Yuzuru and how for some reason his cheeks are pink, like the petals suspended freely in the wind. Despite it being spring already, there is still a little bite to the wind, so Shoma supposes Yuzuru is cold. He’s cold an awful lot these days.

Shoma is not cold. He’s very warm inside and content, and he wants to grab Yuzuru’s bony hands and warm them up for him. So maybe they can both be warm and happy under the gnarled cherry blossom tree.

“You’re a bad liar,” Yuzuru laughs, pulling his knees in and hugging them close to his chest. He laughs harder when Shoma tells him he’s even worse, and though a lot of things have changed, Shoma’s fondness for Yuzuru’s light, bubbly laugh hasn’t.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, and Shoma thinks that he’d like to stay in this moment forever.

 

He doesn’t though, as everyone knows, time doesn’t stop when you ask, regardless of how politely. 

It’s another two years before Shoma puts a name to the uneasiness in his stomach and the heat in his cheeks, two years of Yuzuru filling out his slender limbs slightly more proportionately. Two years of Shoma staying small and bemoaning the chub in his cheeks, two years of the two of them growing steadily closer to the point where you can almost expect Shoma to be trailing after Yuzuru wherever he goes.

Shoma is in his seventh year of schooling, and though he doesn’t like it, he’s learned to sit still save for the absent minded bouncing of his left leg. Yuzuru is in his tenth year, and suddenly it feels very real that Yuzuru will be gone very soon, and Shoma is determined to cling on to time’s elusive wings for as long as he can. Yuzuru seems very far ahead and far more mature than him; all the girls fawn over the bone structure in his face and the lean muscle in his legs, but Yuzuru is, for the most part, the same giggly nine year old he used to follow around.

Shoma is often scared that he and Yuzuru are growing distant because of the years in between them, and the relief that floods his chest when Yuzuru asks him to hang out is a familiar guest. This time is no different; Yuzuru texts him a few hours after his last class, asks him if he can come over. They clamber up to the roof as usual and lie down, and Shoma tries to savor the quiet of the velvety blue evening, but there is something in the air that feels unsettling, and he can’t quite relax despite the tranquil hum of the cicadas.

“Is something wrong?” He manages to mumble, rolling onto his side to face Yuzuru’s side. He doesn’t respond, keeps staring up at the sky with cold eyes Shoma is not very familiar with. “Yuzuru?”

It’s a few more minutes of looking at Yuzuru’s side, his white button-up shirt untucked and pushed up against the slate of the roof. Shoma waits for Yuzuru to turn patiently. He’d wait for an eternity for Yuzuru, so a few minutes is a small task.

“Shoma,” Yuzuru says quietly,  _ so quietly _ , and his voice sounds a little broken and hesitating. It pains Shoma to hear. “Have you ever liked anyone?”

This- this isn’t one of the approved topics Shoma is used to. They usually talk about the big, broad future, or the insignificant day-to-day happenings of school. They don’t talk about crushes.

“Yeah, why?” He hopes his voice is more steady than Yuzuru’s.

He pauses and finally,  _ finally _ turns to meet Shoma’s eyes. They are a little glazed and the deep brown is consuming Shoma. “Who?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Shoma says stubbornly. 

Yuzuru bites his bottom lip - he should stop doing that, Shoma catches him chewing on his lips all the time and at some point the light pink flesh is going to break - and repeats, “Who?”

“I dunno,” Shoma concedes, unwilling to lose Yuzuru now that he’s started talking. “Haven’t you ever just liked people because it feels like you should?”

“I don’t know,” Yuzuru says, and his voice is back to being quiet. Shoma realizes with a start that it’s tinged with something like  _ fear _ , and it’s weird because Yuzuru rarely sounds so openly  _ scared  _ like this.

When Yuzuru looks at Shoma like this, a little wild, a little afraid, Shoma thinks he might just open his eyes and wake up to find it is all a dream. The stars are all too close and Yuzuru is all too close and Shoma can barely feel the roughness under his palm. The air is like an embrace around them, pushing them closer to each other, and Shoma understands why Yuzuru looks a little afraid.

Shoma closes his eyes because it’s all too much, and then when he wakes up in his own bed, he isn’t sure if it  _ was  _ a dream or not.

Shoma buttons up his shirt not entirely controlling his fingers and runs a hand through his hair, and he doesn’t notice until evening that Yuzuru is not in school.

He doesn’t notice until a few days later that Yuzuru is entirely gone.

 

The years drag by in a stagnant cycle of dread, and Shoma isn’t sure how he manages, but he functions. He passes all his classes and does decently on his exams, until he’s staring university in the eye with little enthusiasm.

He’s only a little glad to leave his town behind, a little glad to let go of the ancient cherry blossom tree, of the worn down roof of his house. And the rest of him is saturated with regret.

His cheeks are receding little by little and his hair has been dyed a few times, but when Shoma looks into the mirror, his dark eyes tell him that he’s the same person he was five years ago. 

They tell him he’s the same when he walks by where Yuzuru used to live; his eyes stare back at him from the windows showcasing the emptiness inside. They tell him he’s the same when he kicks at the gravel by the side of the road and a car whisks by, a toddler with palms pressed up on the windows, watching Shoma trail after them. They tell him he’s the same when he watches five year olds hop on the roots of the cherry blossom tree where he and Yuzuru had loitered, unconcerned with the world and its expectations. 

It feels like Shoma is fleeing from everything that has haunted him since Yuzuru vanished, now that nothing is left to hold him back. He’s free, and yet he has the feeling that he’ll never be free from Yuzuru’s presence.

The big day of carting his accumulation of useless things he will almost certainly not find use for in college arrives without fanfare. Shoma gathers his boxes and one suitcase and waves goodbye to his parents, keeping a straight face not just for their sakes, but for his own. He isn’t sure how to deal with the onslaught of emotions - fear? Worry? Apprehension? - so he schools his face into an acceptable  _ I don’t really care  _ expression and hobbles into his room, hoping his roommate isn’t a complete asshole.

The methodical unpacking of his boxes is a little soothing in the repeated motions of fumbling with his surplus of impractical belongings, and when he’s finally done, he stands back and proceeds to collapse onto the floor. Unpacking is tiring, Shoma finds out, and with that last thought, he drifts into sleep.

 

He wakes up with a jolt and sits up reluctantly, rubbing his neck ruefully. There’s a boy towering over him, looking a little concerned, a little amused, and he jumps when he manages to meet his gaze.

There is no justification for Shoma’s immediate flush, itchy and hot at the corner of his jaw. Honestly, he should have expected this, knowing how much life just  _ loves  _ to fuck it up for him.

Yuzuru yelps a little and stands up straight, and he still has that annoying habit of biting his lip when he’s flustered.

“S-Shoma,” he blurts out, cheeks a pretty shade of pink that Shoma wishes he isn’t noticing right now. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here now,” Shoma says dryly, hoping he looks unimpressed. “And you?”

Yuzuru looks like this is exactly the response he was dreading and sits down on his bed. “Well,” he begins hesitantly, steeling himself. “This isn’t how I imagined meeting my roommate.”

Shoma blinks rapidly. He’s just woken up to this and it’s all too much and maybe he should just go back to sleep. “Huh. That’s unfortunate.”

“So,” Yuzuru says, and Shoma just  _ knows  _ it’s going to be hell to get Yuzuru to be comfortable around him. And vice-versa. He wonders where all the years of chasing after each other went, now that they’re dry-mouthed and staring at each other with a strange hunger. “How has life been treating you?”

He’s awkward. He’s clumsy. He breaks a lamp on the second day of being back and drops his phone about twelve times a day, but somehow when he’s concentrating at his desk and chewing at his pencil (someone should get him a teething toy, honestly) he looks just- ethereal in the glare of his refurbished desk lamp.

It’s got something to do with the way Yuzuru colors so prettily when Shoma says something particularly not polite, or perhaps the way he trips over himself to hold open doors for people. Just the eagerly friendly, lively person Shoma knew years ago. It’s a sight for sore eyes, but oh, what Shoma would do for everything to go back to the way it was.

It’s probably for the best that Yuzuru reappears now, of all times. Shoma had almost forgotten what it feels like to feel alive.

 

It all rushes back to Shoma with the flurry of snow and hot tea.

Yuzuru is back to being his normal self around Shoma; he’s silly and endearingly enthusiastic about everything he does, from the music he hums along with to the impossible task of adjusting the thermostat. He plies Shoma with his many blankets and they study together - Yuzuru is just as ahead of the class as he was back in middle school - with the low crooning of Christmas music. Shoma likes their dynamic. It’s domestic and not to cautious anymore, and even though he shrugs off Yuzuru’s persistent arm, he enjoys Yuzuru’s perpetual touch.

They’re loitering around a cafe as usual, dicking around as a bored college student always does, and when Yuzuru pouts at Shoma from across the table, he’s drawn to the pink lips mocking him.

Just as Shoma readjusts to having Yuzuru around again, life decides to fuck him up one more time, and he’s hit by the realization that maybe he wouldn’t mind so much if Yuzuru leaned forward and pressed his pursed lips to his.

It’s hopeless, but Shoma lets himself wander at night, playing with the possibilities they’ve missed out on for so long.

 

“Yuzuru.”

It’s another cold day of staying inside and finishing up the numerous papers they’ve been assigned, and while they’re both bundled up to a ridiculous point, Shoma feels himself shudder unconsciously. He figures he has little lose when Yuzuru mistakes a lot of what he says for a joke, and they’ll be parting soon for winter break anyway.

“Hm?”

Yuzuru looks up from his laptop and tilts his head questioningly, and it’s so - goddamn - cute that Shoma almost keels over in embarrassment.

“I like you.”

Shoma watches absently as Yuzuru’s face goes through a series of frankly hilarious expressions. His eyes widen in disbelief and he gapes a little before blinking quickly and shaking his head. That’s it, Shoma thinks. He’s broken Yuzuru.

“Hold on.” Yuzuru buries his head into his pillow and screams a little before resurfacing. “Sorry about that. I like you too.”

It’s all quite anticlimactic now that all is said and done, and Shoma isn’t sure what they’re supposed to do now that they’re here. He’s never been in a relationship before, nor has Yuzuru. Aren’t couples just good friends who kiss from time to time?

Shoma looks up and feels his eyes widen a little. Yuzuru is… very close. He’s set aside his textbook for the meantime and peers at Shoma curiously. He thinks he would laugh if he weren’t so confused with the world.

“Can I kiss you?” Yuzuru breathes, and fuck, even if Yuzuru were all the way across the room, Shoma would meet his lips with just as much eagerness.

It might just be his imagination, but Shoma thinks he can taste cherry blossoms and the boundless sky in Yuzuru.

He doesn’t know what love is, but he knows he wants to hold on to what he and Yuzuru have for as long as he can.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> the ending is super rushed sorry dlkfjnasdk  
> the title is from smile flower by seventeen!  
> and finally, happy birthday moonlightshonata idk if you can tag people in notes but whatever i guess,, ily


End file.
